we'll be just fine
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: "We don't leave anyone behind". Jaz and Dalton 1x10 to 1x13
1. Chapter 1

**So I got sucked into this fandom by accident, but I'm very happy to be here! Seriously, I'm obsessed. And I told myself I wasn't going to ship Dalton and Jaz. Like they had cute moments here and there, but I wasn't going to seriously ship it. And then 1x09 made me go "oh no" and then 1x10 happened and it was more of an "OH NO" and here I am. I am so weak. I mean Dalton cradled Jaz's head in his hands and said "I got you". WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT OTHER THAN FALL COMPLETELY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR THESE TWO?**

 **I'm sorry. Still having feelings about these two. Anyway, this is mostly just an episode tag (because, again, I had feelings and needed to express them) but I will probably be writing more about these two. Title taken from Sleeping At Last's "West".**

 **Big thank you to luverofjamesandlily for reading this over for me (and also listening to me freak out about this show).**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-:-**

" _They've got Jaz. I repeat, they've got Jaz."_

Dalton stared helplessly at the window that Jaz was supposed to have come out of seconds ago. He couldn't move, couldn't think. He was vaguely aware of Preach at his side, saying—saying something. He just kept staring at the window, then through the windshield, not really taking in anything he was seeing, just hearing the phrase _they've got Jaz_ over and over in his head.

"Adam!" Preach said loudly, snapping him back to the present.

He blinked. Think, he had to _think_. But he could barely do that. He was completely thrown off. It was automatic—he barely registered his mouth moving as he told command what his teammates had told him over coms. That Jaz had been taken. It was automatic as they conjured up a half-formed plan to grab her from the garage. He focused on his breathing as he ran to the car, then to the older SUV. He didn't even bother to break into the car properly, opting to just bust the glass instead.

It was like there was a clock in his head, ticking down the seconds faster and faster until Jaz was out of his reach. Because if they couldn't get her…he knew the protocol. There would be no choice but to leave Jaz. Patricia, try as she might, would legally have to save the rest of the team over one person. That was a conversation with Deputy Director Campbell he didn't want to have.

He slid into the driver's seat of the car, yanking at wires beneath the steering wheel, the engine whining. He groaned in frustration as they sparked uselessly in his hands. "Come on!" he yelled, trying to get the vehicle started. It growled and shuddered but the engine wouldn't turn over. That clock in his head hit zero. Dalton tuned as the vehicle Jaz was in headed towards the exit of the parking garage. Time stood still. There was Jaz, outlined by the half-tinted windows, and all he could do was watch, staring at another window with no way to reach the person on the other side.

-:-

Dalton stared out the window at the people passing on the street. He needed to change, shower, probably needed to eat something. _We do not have a choice_. That's what Patricia had told him, the same words he'd repeated back to her. They had to get Jaz back—they _had_ to. It hadn't even been a year since they'd lost Elijah, and he couldn't lose anyone else. Especially not her.

But he was coming up short on ideas. The best place to have rescued her was the parking garage and that had failed. _He_ had failed. And that's all he could think about. He could see Jaz, struggling behind that window as the guards had caught her. He could see her, being driven away to who the hell knew where.

And this, the waiting, was what he hated most. He wanted to be _doing something._ But just like earlier—only a couple hours ago, though it felt like forever—he'd had to stay behind. He'd had to wait in the car while Jaz risked everything to kill Jarif and get out of that hotel. And now he had to wait on D.C. to give him something, _anything,_ he could use to try and come up with another plan to rescue Jaz.

He'd chosen to wait down here, alone, because he couldn't handle the rest of the team right now. They were all looking to him for answers, but he didn't have any. It frustrated him beyond belief. He had a feeling Preach could tell, too, because the other man had kept giving him sidelong glances, trying to find a moment to say something that would make him feel better.

But Dalton knew he wouldn't feel better until Jaz was safe. So he waited.

-:-

Jaz stirred, coming back to her senses. Like earlier, the first thing she noticed was the whiteness of the room and everything in it. Even though she knew the room wouldn't have changed, it was still a shock to open her eyes and see it. Everything was just so _bright_ , and she had to blink a few times to adjust. The second thing she noticed was that man, Arthur, seated in a (white) chair next to her.

"While you were… _napping_ ," he started, rolling up her left pant leg and touching her knee with cold hands. She tried not to recoil. "I took the liberty of examining your body."

Her stomach twisted, and she got a sour taste in her mouth. She turned away as he continued to prattle on, trying to get a rise out of her. She focused on something else—the feeling of half dried blood around her nose, the swollenness of her split lip, anything but the feeling of Arthur's hands and where else they might have been when he _examined_ her.

Then, after another minute of him just talking, he brought out the square of thick black fabric. Before she could even puzzle out what it was, he was behind her, thrusting the bag over her head. The sudden blackness was jarring. She couldn't see, felt like she couldn't breathe properly. Her cuffed hands clenched down by her sides. She tried focusing, tried listening. Then she heard the click, and the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed to the back of her head.

She wanted to cry. She bit down on her injured lip, using the pain to draw her back to the present. _He won't kill me,_ she thought. _Not yet. I haven't given him anything. Not yet, not yet._ Still, her blood froze in her veins. This was it. She was going to die. There would be nothing left of her but red blood in a white room.

Then the gun moved, and before she could take a breath of relief, he fired, right next to her head. She jumped, ears ringing. Her breaths came quicker, heart hammering hard in her chest as he yanked the hood back off and she was blinded once again by the stark whiteness of the room.

Arthur said something about patience, but she could barely hear him. Her ears echoed with the sound of the gunshot.

Patience. She knew they would try to rescue her, that Dalton would try everything in his power to get her out. She knew that it was probably impossible. She just had to be patient. Just had to hold out long enough and keep the attention on her until her team made it out of this country. Until they were safe.

-:-

"I know you're strong," Arthur said, "But would you rather die than have a chance to see your family again? Find love? Have a child? Don't you care about your team? _Your_ team," he shook the pictures in front of her, but Jaz refused to look. She didn't know how they'd gotten the pictures. But it didn't matter. She didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. "They were captured trying to recue you. And you were captured because of your own stupidity.

"And this fellow," he pulled out a picture of a beaten, bloody Dalton, "was killed because of it." She tried not to look. It was all a ruse. Another trick to try and get her to talk. Still, she found herself staring at the photo. "How many more will die? How selfish are you willing to be?"

Jaz took a breath. She was exhausted, but he wouldn't break her. She'd trained for this, and nothing he said would make her give up her team. She wondered if they were out of the country yet, or if it was taking longer because they were compromised. Though, she didn't even know what day it was, what time. There was just the white room. Still, no matter when it was, she hoped they'd gotten to safe territory by now.

Arthur sighed. "Everyone has a breaking point, love. There's no shame in recognizing that this is yours. You have failed your team, and one is already dead."

She frowned, keeping her eyes on the far wall.

"Save the rest by explaining your allegiances."

She nearly laughed at him. They had nothing. If they did, he wouldn't be talking about it, he'd be showing her real proof. She told him as much. And for a moment, she had the upper hand. It was all fake. Her team was alive, safe. And they were getting out of this country. The pictures, the torture, it didn't matter what they did to her, because her team was _safe._

That's what she kept telling herself, even as another man walked in and unrolled a pack of tools, selecting a knife that glinted silver in the white room.

Even as he started digging the knife into her flesh, drawing fresh blood, there was a part deep inside of her that was calm, because her team—her guys—were out of harm's reach. Another part of her wished they were coming for her, that Dalton could somehow achieve the impossible and bring her home.

-:-

Adam found himself standing by that same window again. He had to lean against the wall for support. He'd heard what Campbell had said—that their chances of getting Jaz out of the black site were essentially zero—but he wished he hadn't. Because it just confirmed what he'd known all along. The thought made him hollow.

"Sorry, um…" he trailed off, struggling to find his voice. "uh, say again. I—the signal was lost here."

" _I'm telling you that you did all that you could,_ " Patricia said from the other end of the com. " _And I won't let you, or any other member of your team be killed trying to do the impossible._ "

She paused, probably waiting for his response. But he didn't really want to talk. There had been so much talking, and all he wanted was to be able to _do_ something _._ But he couldn't. they were out of ideas, out of options. He and his team excelled at accomplishing the impossible, but the moment when it mattered most, they were stuck. He hated knowing that the next step would be to head back to their base, leaving Jaz behind.

" _Adam._ "

"I know," he replied finally, hating the way those two words tasted as they left his mouth.

" _Excuse me?_ "

Maybe she expected him to put up a fight, but he was exhausted, and trying to fight off the sick, bitter feeling of dreadtwisting inside his gut was sapping the last of his energy.

"I said I know it's impossible. I'm not asking to stay." He half considered getting the rest of the guys out of the country and staying behind to try and free Jaz, but that was a suicide mission and he knew it. Then both he and Jaz would be dead, and that wasn't doing anyone any good. He tried not to think of Jaz, alone, undoubtedly being tortured for information. She would know what the protocol was in this situation, that they would have to leave. He hated thinking that she was holding out hope, waiting for them, for a rescue that would never come.

" _We will begin preparing new exfiltration plans for you and your team. It might take a little longer than usual because you've been outed, and we need to be more careful,_ " Campbell paused, but it was all the time Dalton needed for a spark to go off in his head, for the tiniest inkling of an idea to start forming in his mind, " _but we will get you out._ "

"Outed?" Dalton asked, the wheels in his brain turning.

" _They have all four of your pictures,_ " Patricia explained. " _Which means if you get caught, you will be executed immediately._ "

"No, not immediately."

" _Adam_ —"

"Not immediately," he repeated, half present. His mind was too busy turning over the numbers, the possibilities of his plan actually working. "They wouldn't execute us immediately if we were outed as spies. They would transfer us to a separate facility for public execution. To be televised—"

" _Why are we talking about this?_ "

Adam knew very well the Deputy Director might not approve of this plan, no matter how badly she also wanted Jaz back. He knew that it could get Patricia in trouble if she went through with it. But it was a _plan_. If it worked—and it was a big _if_ , he knew that—they could bring Jaz home.

"Because you might have just saved Jaz's life."

-:-

Jaz had known that her team would have to leave Iran. Try as they might to get her out, they would have to leave. What she hadn't known, what she hadn't expected, was that her own government would sell her out to the Iranians. She wanted to believe it wasn't true, that Director Campbell or anyone else who knew she really was wouldn't do that, but it didn't really matter. Because the Iranians believed it, and that meant they were going to kill her.

She took a deep breath and thought of her teams' smiling faces. She thought of McG and Amir teasing each other endlessly, of Preach's proud grin whenever he showed them a new photo of his daughters. She thought of Dalton, the way he always pushed her to do better, his wholehearted trust in her abilities, his advise to improvise should things go wrong.

Things had certainly gone wrong, but suddenly she wasn't afraid anymore.

-:-

It was a blur as the team transferred her from one vehicle to another. She was hurting, exhausted. Killing that sick fuck Arthur had taken the remainder of her energy. She could clearly remember Dalton's face swimming into view, McG there at her side to give her a shot and help move her into the awaiting vehicle. She couldn't focus on the rest of the team, hurrying and shouting around her as they made their escape. At the moment, the only thing that felt real was Dalton's warm presence at her side, his hands as they steadied her, helped guide her into the van. Once inside, his hands cradled her head gently.

"I got you. You're all right." he told her, and beneath his own exhaustion and rush of adrenaline, she could see the clear outline of relief etched into his face.

It was enough to make her own heart settle a little in her chest.

-:-

Everything hurt. Every bump in the road the truck went over sent Jaz's bones jarring. But she tried not to let it show, tried not to tense up every time, because Dalton was right next to her, their bodies nearly flush together beneath the fake bed of the truck. She was laying on the side that hurt more, but she couldn't lay on her other side. She couldn't be face to face with Dalton. Not right now, not when she was nearly ready to shake apart. They still weren't out of Iran yet, and she could feel it in every nerve.

"Talk to me," Dalton said. It was quiet, but she was sure the others heard. Or maybe they were too tense, too focused on the rumble of the truck as they made their way to the border to pay attention to her and Dalton.

It never seemed to matter if there were others in the room, anyway. Sometimes when she and Top talked, everything and everyone else fell away. She trusted every single man on her team with her life, but she and Dalton, they'd been close since day one. She knew that a lot of the time, he had to keep his guard up, distance himself and pretend he didn't care sometimes, because he was their commanding officer. When it came to making the hard calls, that was on him. So distance was sometimes easier for him, she understood that. But there were times when he was just himself around her, and she liked that.

And she so desperately wanted to talk to him now. There was so much she could have said, but what slipped from her cut mouth was, "I should have played things differently." She took a breath, hating the slightest tremor in her voice. "I got us all into this mess."

Her team had come for her. _They had come for her_. That was the thought that keep running over and over in her brain. She'd known the chances of it actually happening had been slim, and she'd made peace with it. She had signed up to sacrifice herself for her country if need be. But they'd actually come for her. Still, she hated knowing she'd endangered them all, and if anything had happened to Dalton, to any of them—

"Did you kill Jarif?" Dalton asked quietly, as if sensing her thoughts. "The guy who orchestrated the murders of civilians, and children, and your fellow servicemen?"

Jaz swallowed. "Yeah."

"Yeah." His voice was no more than a whisper, but there was a reassuring strength to it that Jaz felt all the way down to her bones. "Are we getting out of this country?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, we are. So then that's it, all right?" Dalton told her firmly, quietly. "You did good. Job done."

Jaz ran her tongue over her split lip, letting Dalton's words sink in. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. Top was right. When she opened her eyes again, she felt like she could breathe better, some of the weight lifted off her shoulders.

-:-

They were driving back through friendly territory, the sunrise washing the sky in shades of pink and purple and orange. Trying to distract himself from thoughts of Hussein's sacrifice and of what might happen with director Campbell, Dalton looked over at Jaz. McG was seated at Jaz's feet, on the other side of the truck bed, Preach having gone to sit up front with Amir. Jaz was perched on one of the crates that hadn't been destroyed, staring off towards the horizon. He wondered what she was thinking. For all the boasting he did of being able to read her, there were times like this that he didn't have a clue what was going through her head.

But he could guess. Because they were so similar, and they were probably thoughts similar to his own. Guilt, fear, going through the events over and over and over, trying to figure out what he—what _she_ —could've done differently.

He'd wanted to say more to her in the back of the truck, wanted to tell her that he'd damn near gone out of his mind trying to get her back. But it hadn't been the time or the place. He didn't know if there would ever be a right time to say something like that. He was her commanding officer, and it would be unprofessional to show how deeply he cared. He cared about his whole team—they were his family. If anything happened to them, he would never forgive himself.

Losing Elijah had been bad enough. After his previous tours, after seeing friends fall left and right, after all the blood he spilled, he didn't want that to happen again. He knew it was unrealistic. This was their job, what they signed up to do, but it still hurt every fucking time one of them got hurt. He was in charge. He was supposed to prevent that from happening. And when Elijah was shot… he'd blamed himself, of course. More than that, he blamed himself for the way Jaz had been hurting after that.

Elijah had been her best friend, and she'd had to catch his dead body as it fell into her arms. It was something familiar to him, watching your friends die, so he knew exactly how she felt. But she still hadn't talked much those first few weeks after it had happened. The first time she'd really shown any emotion after he'd died was when Dalton had told her that they were getting a CIA field operative assigned to their team, after months with no replacement. She'd been pissed. Dalton still remembered the way her eyes flashed with rage beneath all her grief. She usually hid it well, but that day he saw everything she was carrying, and it weighed down on his own shoulders.

Still, despite her initial iciness towards Amir, they'd warmed up to each other. Elijah was always with them, but Amir had fit right into their little family. And Dalton had nearly lost control when they'd almost lost Jaz too. He would have done anything to get any one of them back. But Jaz…he couldn't lose her. He and Jaz had always been really similar, and he trusted her absolutely. He'd always been able to talk to her more easily, too. He and Preach had known each other for a decade, and Preach was good at knowing what he was thinking, at giving him advice when he doubted himself. But Jaz was different. And he'd started to realize maybe just how different his feelings were towards her when he watched her get taken away.

He watched her for a moment longer, noting the dried blood on her forehead, lip, on the legs of the white pants they'd forced her into. He knew there was more under the shirt McG had given her. Though he didn't like it, he knew Jaz could handle the torture. They'd all trained for it. Still, he could tell something else was bothering her. Once again, he found himself wanting to say more, to erase, or at the very least, redo the last 72 hours. He took a breath. He retreated within himself a little, trying to distance himself from the high of emotions from the past few days that he was still coming down from.

"It'll be a little while before we get there," he told her quietly. "You should try and get some rest."

Jaz dipped her head in a shallow nod, not tearing her eyes away from the horizon. "Maybe later."

Dalton waited for a moment for her to say anything else. She didn't.

-:-

Jaz watched as the med team walked away, leaving her alone with McG. They were sitting on a bench inside the base, near the equipment storage lockers. McGuire hadn't left her side since they'd been in the truck, helping her down when they'd gotten on base, and staying with her as the med team checked her out and cleaned her wounds. She was exhausted, and now that she was cleared by medical, all she wanted was to go to her bunk and crash.

McG touched her shoulder. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," she replied. She leaned into his touch, appreciating the comforting gesture. "Really, I'm okay. Bruised and sore, but I'll be fine."

He nodded. McG could talk a lot when he wanted, but he also knew when to take a situation seriously. And though at times he felt a lot like an obnoxious brother, he was a really good man and one of her best friends, and he'd always been supportive of her. She was secretly glad that he'd stayed by her side. She meant it when she said she was fine, but it was also nice to have someone with her.

McG moved his hand down to grasp her own. It was nothing more than another comforting gesture, and she gratefully squeezed his hand back. They just sat quietly for a moment. Amir and Preach were cleaning out the back of the truck they'd used to get out of Iran, while the medics filled Dalton in across the room. Jaz watched as he Dalton listened to what the medics had to say, nodding every now and then. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but considering that they'd told her she wasn't in dire condition, she couldn't imagine it was too bad.

McG must have caught the direction of her gaze, because he said quietly, "You know, Top was going a little out of his mind trying to get you back."

Jaz didn't say anything for a moment. She schooled her features into blankness, despite the skip beat that her heart did. Dalton was…she exhaled slowly. Dalton was complicated. She'd known him for three years. He was her CO, and because of his position, it made sense that he was more reserved. He didn't always participate in their banter and jokes, didn't always open up. But he'd never had a problem talking to her. And it was nice, having someone she could so easily talk to. She'd bottled up a lot of her emotions over the years, hardened a protective shell around herself. It was necessary, when her own father had made his animosity towards her, and the fact that she was a girl, clear from day one.

But she and Dalton had always been able to talk. They didn't do it often, but when they did, it always meant a lot. She hadn't really wanted to talk much at all as they were escaping Iran, but he'd asked, and she found she couldn't hold back from him. To know that he'd lost a little bit of his carefully maintained self control to get her back, to know that someone cared thatdeeply about _her_ …it meant more than she could ever express. No one had ever cared about her that much. And it wasn't just Dalton. Her whole team came for her. They were her family, her true family, she knew that, but it hadn't ever struck her as hard as it did now.

"We were all worried," McG said, after a minute of her still being silent. "Trust me, none of us wanted to leave. We almost did, when Campbell ordered us to, but," he paused long enough for her to look at him. "Top came through with a plan."

"It was risky," she pointed out.

McG shrugged, a little smile quirking up one side of his mouth. "Yeah. Couldn't leave you behind, though." He grinned then, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say whatever hilarious thing he'd come up with in his head. "I mean imagine the paperwork! We'd have to find someone else for overwatch, and Top probably would've put Amir in your place until it could be filled, it'd be a nightmare—"

She pulled her hand away and used the same arm to elbow him lightly in the ribs. McG just laughed, and Jaz couldn't help but smile a little too. "You're such an idiot sometimes," she teased, laughing.

Their laughter quieted as Dalton started to make his way over to them.

McG squeezed her knee gently, moving to get up. "I'll come check on you in the morning."

"You really don't need to," she tried to tell him. "The medics cleared me."

"Too bad." He smiled. "Get some rest. Doctor's orders."

She rolled her eyes, but told him quietly that she'd see him in the morning. McG gave her one more toothy smile before getting up. He nodded with a quiet, "Top," in Dalton's direction before going over to help Amir and Preach finish up.

Jaz looked at Dalton as he sat down on the bench next to her, in the spot that McG had just vacated. His shoulder brushed hers lightly, their thighs nearly touching.He turned his head to look at her, blue eyes scanning her, taking stock of her injuries again now that they were clean. He hid it well, but she could tell that he was still worried about her.

"What did medical have to say?" she asked before Dalton could ask how she was doing.

"Well," he said, letting out a breath, "they said that your condition isn't critical, obviously. But you're still not cleared for duty."

She pinched her lips together, not quite meeting his eyes. She'd kind of expected that. They would've done it to any of the guys had their positions been reversed. Still, it stung. She needed time to recover, of course, but she also knew that after a day or two she would be itching to be back in the field. "How long?"

"A week, at least."

She nearly groaned. When she looked up at Dalton, one corner of his mouth was quirked up, like he knew just how frustrated she was. Then his face grew serious again, and this time Jaz just waited for him to ask the question on his mind.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I'm fine," she said, repeating the same thing she'd told McG. "I was tortured. It's—we're trained for it, right? So, I'm okay, really. I can handle it."

Dalton looked like he wanted to argue, but he decided against it. "Okay. You let me know if anything changes, though."

"Top—"

"Just keep me informed," he said firmly. "Got it?"

She nodded slowly, swallowing. "Yeah. Got it."

Dalton just looked at her a moment longer. She held his gaze, waiting. His features softened, mouth twisting. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

Her brow furrowed. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault. I messed up, and—"

"No, not that," he interjected quietly. "You didn't mess up. And I—well, it's not about that. I meant I'm sorry about making you think that the government betrayed you. It was my idea, to have you outed. It was the only way to get them to move you, so we could step in. But I know that must have been shitty, thinking that we'd turned our backs on you."

"You got me out," she said, just as quietly, twisting her hands in her lap to keep from reaching for him. "That's all that matters. Job done, right?"

He smiled a little at that. "Right." He was quiet for a moment. The he squeezed her hand before standing. "You should get some sleep," he told her, slowly letting go. He raised an eyebrow, smirking just so. "Captain's orders."

She breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. All these damn orders," she muttered as she stood too, but she was smiling. Dalton gave her a small grin, and for a moment, all she could do was twist the sleeves of the shirt McG had given her in her hands. Dalton touched a guiding hand to her back as she stepped towards the bunk area.

Just as she was about to head to her bunk, Dalton gently grabbed her upper arm, slowing her to a stop.

"Jaz,"

She turned and tipped her head back a little to look at him better.

He licked his lips, looking around like he was trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. Then he looked at her and she held his gaze steadily. "I know it was a risky plan," he said finally. "It could've gone south real quick, but I want you to know…you were worth the risk."

Jaz's lips parted just so as she let that sink in. Dalton was looking at her intently. She felt her heart thrum in her chest, a lump rising in her throat. She was suddenly struck with the realization that she almost hadn't seen him again. Her last memory of him had almost been the slightly worried but trusting look on his face, wearing those ridiculous glasses that he still managed to pull off, while he told her to improvise.

"Thank you," she whispered, hoping that by talking quietly her voice wouldn't break, even as she felt her eyes sting with the very beginnings of tears, "for coming back for me."

Dalton gave her a soft smile, reaching for her and taking one of her hands into his own. His fingers were warm, calloused like her own, grip gentle and firm at the same time.

"I've got your back," he said lowly, gaze fond. "We don't leave anyone behind."


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! Didn't think I was going to make this multi-chapter, but then somebody mentioned how great the Jaz/Dalton content was in 1x11 and I have to agree. It's so, so good! (I'm seriously so weak for these two) So, I decided to make this a short little story of connected episode tags for episodes 1x10 to 1x13.**

 **Thanks for all the support on this story so far, it really means a lot!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-:-**

Jaz lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. It had been five days since the team rescued her from Iran. She hadn't been sleeping well since that first night when she'd mostly passed out from exhaustion. She kept finding herself waking up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep. Today had been a little better. She'd checked her watch and it was close to dawn.

Running her tongue over her still healing lip, she opened her eyes and sat up. Crawling out of bed, she pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, padding as quietly as she could into the kitchen. She wasn't even hungry, but she didn't want to lay in bed anymore. She wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep, especially with McG's snoring.

She sat down at the kitchen table, knowing that part of her restlessness was not being out in the field. They hadn't been called out for a mission since getting back from Tehran, which she supposed was nice for getting the rest she needed. But she was done resting. Medical had told her a week, and it hadn't been quite that long, but about the only thing that was bothering her was the fact that a few of her wounds were starting to itch as they healed. Other than that, she felt perfectly fine. She just wished D.C. would call with a mission. Then it would give her something to do, other than sitting around staring at the wall.

A few days ago, Dalton had offered to let her go home early, take some time for herself. _I know it's only a few more weeks of this rotation_ , he'd said, _but I know I could get Patricia to agree let you go early if you need time—_

 _All due respect,_ she'd interrupted before he could finish that sentence, the one she hadn't wanted to hear, especially from Dalton. _I'm staying._

He'd regarded her for a long moment, before nodding slowly. _All right. Let me know if you change your mind._

And that had been the end of that discussion. Maybe she'd been a little defiant, but he'd looked at her with understanding. Jaz knew that if their situations were reversed, he certainly wouldn't be leaving the team. She wasn't going to either. She didn't want to go home, and more importantly, she didn't want to leave her team. Not after what they'd done for her.

"What're you doing up, Jaz? Can't sleep?" Preach said as he came shuffling into the kitchen, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry," she said quietly, ignoring his question about not being asleep. She was pretty sure Preach had been able to tell that last few days that she hadn't been sleeping well, but that didn't mean she had to admit it out loud. "I thought I was being quiet."

"You know," he responded, moving to the shelves in the kitchen, "when you have three daughters like I do, you tend to be a pretty light sleeper. Gotta be ready, willing, and able to slay monsters under the bed at the first creak of a floorboard."

She smiled a little at that, spinning in her chair to face him. He was bustling around, grabbing things off shelves. "What are you doing?"

"Making some of Grandma Carter's no-fail naptime tea." Ingredients in hand, Preach turned and gave her a look that confirmed Jaz's suspicions. She didn't know how he did it, but he definitely knew she hadn't been sleeping well. But he didn't elaborate, simply gave her a comforting smile and turned to make the tea.

In no time, they both had steaming mugs in hand. The first sip soothed her, releasing some tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "That's actually really good," she said, smiling.

Then he brought up Top's offer to let her rotate home early, and she told him the same things she'd been telling herself. She didn't want to go home. She didn't want to return to her lonely apartment in the city. Didn't want to fulfill her obligation as a daughter by making her yearly visit to her parents. She didn't even want to think about being anywhere but on base.

"Yeah, well, if you're gonna stay, which warms my heart," McG said sleepily as he, too, came into the kitchen, "can you guys please be quiet? You're making a racket out here, I'm trying to sleep."

Jaz gave him an incredulous look. "That's rich, coming from you."

McGuire looked between her and Preach. "What do you mean?"

Jaz opened her mouth and imitated his loud, chainsaw snore. Preach started chuckling at her side, while McG tried to defend himself by saying he didn't snore. Soon enough, Amir had joined them, grumpily asking why they were all awake. McG and Amir continued their back and forth, then Preach interjected by explaining that it would take a lot more than a little bit of noise to wake Dalton up. Jaz just sat back and watched, nearly forgetting how tired she was.

 _This_. This is why she didn't want to go home. Because her family was here.

-:-

Dalton had been dreading this conversation ever since they got the mission call from D.C. He knew how restless Jaz had been since getting back from Iran, how badly she wanted to get back out in the field. He was the same way. He hated bedrest, hated waiting around. But she hadn't been cleared yet, and he didn't have a choice.

She was in the equipment cage, screwing the suppressor onto her rifle. Dalton stepped up next to her, debating how to breach the topic. As it turned out, he didn't have to. Jaz could sense what he was thinking.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to him, a defiant glint in her eyes. "You cannot be serious."

"The brass hasn't cleared you for duty yet," Dalton told her plainly.

Jaz lifted her head a little higher. "The brass hasn't, or you haven't?"

Any other circumstance and Dalton might have smiled. She was so full of fire, wasn't afraid to stand her ground. He admired that about her, but right now, he had to be her commander.

"If you're trying to convince me that you're squared away by running your mouth, you're not helping your argument," he shot back.

Jaz set her jaw, taking her equipment bag and tossing it on the ground, before perching on the silver table. Dalton could feel the rest of the team watching them, but he kept his eyes on Jaz, watching her lift a hand to touch her lip where it was still healing. She wasn't looking at him.

"Look," he said more calmly, "do I want you to come with us? Of course I do. But that's why we've got protocols in place, so that guys like me aren't making decisions that we're not qualified to make. Now, I put you in harm's way and you're not ready, something happens to you," he paused, taking a breath, and Jaz finally turned her head to look at him. "I'd never forgive myself."

If she was surprised by his statement, she didn't show it. Still, it was the truth. Every day since from returning to Iran he'd thought about the fact that they'd almost left her there. If he hadn't come up with a plan, she would've died there. He could barely sleep, because he kept dreaming about it, about seeing her get taken, kept waking up in the middle of the night with a sick feeling twisting in his gut. He knew Jaz hadn't been sleeping well either, because he heard her get up in the middle of the night, but he hadn't yet gotten the courage to go and talk to her in those quiet hours of the night.

Those were the hours where he didn't trust himself not to tell her how much he hated himself for almost leaving her there.

Jaz exhaled sharply, and Dalton could see her trying to come up with an excuse to get him to let her come.

"What?" he prompted, tone sharp.

She stared him down for a moment longer, before her shoulders dropped just so in defeat. "For the record," she said, voice hard, "this blows."

She hopped down off the table and walked quickly out of the cage, not looking back. Dalton sighed. He knew she wouldn't be pissed forever, but it still hurt knowing that he couldn't take her with them.

-:-

"Did they hurt you?"

The question didn't really surprise Jaz. She was wondering when Xander would get around to asking her something like that. And earlier…earlier she probably would've given him some snarky response and closed herself off again. But she liked Xander. At first she'd been annoyed that they'd sent a shrink at all, but she'd gotten over it. He was there to make sure she was fit for duty, but he hadn't been patronizing about it, for which she was grateful. He also hadn't treated her differently because she was a woman.

But she was a woman, so he still asked the question. The wounds on her face were still healing, so while she knew he was asking if they'd hurt her more seriously, she also knew that he was asking if they'd _hurt_ her, touched her inappropriately. She was quiet. She wanted to give him an answer. _No_. It was one word. Aside from Arthur's cold hands touching her from time to time, making her skin crawl, and his threats to do more, they hadn't hurt her, not in that way. But still, she couldn't seem to open her mouth to speak.

"I read the debrief," Xander said. "I'm not asking a piece of paper, I'm asking you."

Jaz still didn't say anything, just focused on the videogame on the tv, her hands barely registering the control in her hands.

"I'm a survivor, Jaz," Xander continued. "I know—I know no matter how well you got through it, there's something that got you. Maybe not then, maybe it's now. But the thing is, it's better to say it out loud now to me, then let it haunt you."

Jaz paused the game, setting the controller down on the table next to her. She swallowed, looking over at Xander.

"So?" he prompted gently. "What is it that's haunting you?"

Jaz took a breath. She thought of the doctored photos Arthur had shown her, how she'd known they were fake, but still feared the outcome they showed. She couldn't stand to lose her team. Dalton had told her when they'd gotten back that she'd been worth the risk, and she'd been too tired at the time to question him on the matter. But had she been worth the risk? Hussein was dead, and the rest of her team could have been dragged down with him. All because they took the risk to get her back.

"I'm terrified that I could lose them," she admitted quietly, not looking directly at Xander. She swallowed, resting her hands on her knees, folding her hands together. There were still bruises around her wrists from the cuffs. She could still so easily picture the blood that dripped from her fingertips after they sliced into her with that knife. But that wasn't what really bothered her about all of this.

"You know, being grabbed, being tortured," she exhaled, "I can handle that. My dad hated me from the second I was born a girl. But, um…" Jaz took a shaky breath, thinking of the utter _relief_ that had washed over her when Dalton, McG, and the others appeared, pulling her from the van that would have delivered her to certain death. "When _my_ guys came and _rescued_ me—"

She broke off, shifting her gaze away from Xander. There was the slightest burning of tears in her eyes, but she blinked, willing them away.

"That was the first time anyone came to help you. First time in your whole life," Xander guessed. Deduced, rather.

Jaz took another breath, whispered, "Yep."

-:-

After the rest of the guys had wandered off to make bets and play nine-ball, Jaz stood up from her chair and went to sit next to Dalton on the bench of the picnic table. They were quiet for a little while, just sipping on their beers, enjoying the silence.

"Xander's good people, yeah?" Dalton asked finally, giving her a knowing look.

Jaz smiled. She should've known Dalton was going to keep tabs on her while they'd been gone in Columbia. She might have been annoyed, but she understood. "You know him?"

He turned his head in her direction, giving her a small smile. "We're well acquainted." He fell silent, staring back at the fire in front of him.

Then, Dalton spoke again, "You know what, in our line of work…" he paused, ran a hand across the back of his head like he did when he was thinking about what to say, how to phrase something. "I think experience…it comes at a pretty steep cost."

He wasn't looking at her. Dalton didn't often talk about himself. He was a lot like her in that he wouldn't open up until he wanted to. But he was opening up now, so Jaz just waited patiently for him to continue.

"I was in Fallujah in the fall of '04." Dalton rubbed on his ear, still not looking at her. Still, Jaz waited. She felt like she was holding her breath, anticipating and dreading all at once what he had to say next. "And the op tempo was so high. And we couldn't even keep track of the numbers that we were racking up. By that time, I mean, I had spilled so much blood…you get a taste for it, you know?"

Dalton looked at her, and she was caught a little off guard. There was something in his face that she so rarely saw, a hint of sadness and vulnerability that she wasn't used to seeing in him. Because he was their captain, and he had to lead by example. He had to be strong for the rest of them. The faint glimmer of tears in his eyes made her look towards the ground.

"My CSM had to pull me off of some asshole whose throat I'd just slit," Dalton continued, voice a little quieter, "cause he killed one of my friends."

Jaz knew how he felt. She could feel all the blood on her hands from all the people she'd killed. She could see Elijah's blood spray as she caught his falling body. Could see it coating her hands and welling up between her fingers as she desperately tried to staunch the flow, even as his eyes went dim.

She could see Dalton, bruised and bloody and beaten in that fake photo. Even if the picture hadn't been real, it didn't mean that she couldn't see something like that happening someday. It didn't mean that it didn't haunt her regardless, kept her from sleeping well.

Dalton cleared his throat next to her, continuing. "And it wasn't enough that I'd killed him. You know I wanted to take his head," Dalton looked at her again, and what she saw in his eyes she felt all the way down in her bones. It struck her then how similar they were. That what haunted him was similar to what haunted her, "and I wanted to hang it on a wall, over my rack. I lost sight of what made me better than them."

He was quiet for another moment, and she saw him rub at the corner of his eye. "I don't—I don't know if, um…if we have to have a dark side to do what we do, Jaz. But I know that I met mine. And, uh,…" he shook his head, as if trying to banish the ghosts of memories from his mind. "No matter what I do…that guy never goes away."

Dalton looked at her again and she swallowed, tipping her head to look back at the stars. She mulled over what he'd said, and everything she'd been thinking since they got her out. She was grateful, of course. There weren't words to convey just how glad she was that her team had come back for her. _You were worth the risk_. That's what Dalton had told her when they'd gotten back on base. That first night, her gratitude and those words were all she could think about, all she could feel. But the following nights she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd just kept thinking about how much they'd risked to get her out, about the gunfire around the truck, and Hussein sacrificing himself. No one should have died. It was her _job_ to go into dangerous situations, and if she didn't make it out, that was okay. It's what she signed up for.

She felt better after having talked to Xander. It felt good to voice her fears to someone, but she knew she should tell someone else. She should tell Dalton. Because that part of her that was scared to lose him and the others, that part of her was angry too. Angry at herself because it was _her life_ they'd been trying to save. Angry at her team for going back in to save her. It was stupid. Knowing Dalton, he would've done the same for any one of them, but she was still struggling with it. She didn't think anyone would miss her if she was gone. And yet they'd done everything in their power to get her out.

Her eyes started stinging, and she blinked rapidly, trying to extinguish the tears. She inhaled, exhaled slowly through her mouth. She looked at Dalton. He was staring up at the sky as she had been. He'd set his beer on the table and had his arms folded across his chest. She looked away again, up at the night sky, not wanting to look at him when she asked the question that had been burning beneath the depths of her gratitude. "Why did you come and get me?"

She could feel Dalton's eyes on her. "Jaz."

She swore she could count the beats of her heart. Her eyes burned again, and she willed herself not to cry, not here, not now.

"Jaz, look at me." It wasn't so much an order as it was a request.

Slowly, Jaz tipped her head down and looked at her captain. There was a crease of confusion between his brows, a hint of that same vulnerability from earlier shadowed in his eyes. He looked at a loss for words.

"Why risk it?" she asked, gripping her beer bottle in her hands.

"You're kidding right?" His brow furrowed. "Jaz—"

"You said it yourself," she interrupted, snapping a little more than she'd intended. "It was a risky plan. It could've gone wrong in a million different ways. And plan or not, I'm sure Campbell asked you to leave. That's protocol. I knew the risk when I took the mission to kill Jarif, so why did you guys come after me? Hussein is dead, and you could be too, and—"

" _Jaz_ , stop" he said firmly, reaching forward to grasp her wrist gently. He scanned her face, then looked down to where his hand was around her wrist. With the sleeves of her jacket she couldn't feel his skin against her own, but somehow she knew that it would be warm, his hand calloused like her own. He withdrew his hand, and Jaz finally set her beer bottle down.

Dalton took a breath, looking at her directly. "Look, you're right. Patricia told us to leave. She said we were out of options, and that she couldn't risk the rest of us being there any longer. But don't you see, Jaz? That's the point. _There was no other option_. No alternative other than getting you out. You're a part of this team, and I meant it when I said you were worth the risk. And Director Campbell must've thought so, too, because I couldn't have done it without her help."

Jaz swallowed, chest tight. She knew that her eyes were shining with tears, but she didn't care anymore. "You guys could've died."

Dalton nodded slowly. "Yep. But that's the job." He paused, twisted his mouth like he was considering what to say next. "What I said earlier, about not being able to forgive myself if something happened to you…I meant that. I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you there to die without at least _trying_ to get you out. That dark part of myself—" He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the movement. "I didn't want to know what kind of person I would turn into if I didn't at least try."

That was something Jaz could understand. She was terrified of what she would do, who she would become if something ever happened to her team. Losing Elijah was bad enough. She shut herself off for weeks, months. She'd been at everyone's throats when it was announced they'd be getting a new guy. Through all of that, though, she'd somehow grown closer to this team. They hadn't turned her away, hadn't abandoned her. Not then, not now. They were her family, and losing them scared the shit out of her.

But they were here now, and that was all that mattered. Dalton had gotten her out. She was sure she'd been dead, that she would never see a night sky like this one again, but here she was. She exhaled, nodding at Dalton. "I understand." She licked her lips. "And I'm sorry for snapping earlier, for questioning your orders about me staying behind."

Dalton smiled a little at that. "It's okay."

And that was all she needed to hear. That it was going to be okay. She took a deep breath and smiled back, before tipping her head back once more to look at the stars. "So, which one is Cassiopeia, again?"

She swore she could see Dalton grin out of the corner of her eye. He settled in too, and pointed up at the sky, telling her the stories of the stars for a long time. By the time Jaz made it to bed that night, it was the best she'd slept in days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's part 3 of 4! This one is for episode 12, which I started writing before the finale premiered, so obviously this scene played out a little differently in the actual episode. This chapter is also a little shorter, because there wasn't as much material that I wanted to work with in this episode. But the last chapter for the finale should be a little longer!**

 **Thank you to luverofjamesandlily for reading over this chapter for me! And thank you all for the support on this little story, it means a lot! Here's to this lovely little fandom and hoping that we get a season 2! (Also that finale guys, like WOW I loved it!)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-:-**

"Dalton, take your team outside. I need a minute alone with Alex," Director Campbell said, not taking her eyes off the man in the cage.

Dalton took a step forward. "Patricia—"

" _Now_ , Adam," she said sternly, casting him half a glance over her shoulder.

Dalton ground his teeth together, wanting to argue. He didn't trust this Alex guy. More importantly, he wanted to know what the hell was going on. But Campbell's tone made it clear she was not in the mood to start something. He turned and looked at the members of his team, nodding his head towards the door. "You heard her."

His team started heading outside. Dalton cast one more look at Patricia and Alex, before following suit. Once they were outdoors in the yard, Dalton turned towards Preach. If anyone could give him advice and help work out what they were dealing with, it was Preach. But then his gaze caught on Jaz, heading off in the other direction, farther away from the base. He knew her well enough to be able to tell, even from behind, that she was upset. Her shoulders were tensed despite her easy gait.

"Go," Preach nudged him, looking in Jaz's direction. Preach gave him a look that he wasn't going to bother dissecting right then, and instead he just nodded, then turned and followed Jaz.

She had been walking faster than he'd thought, already nearing the fence that surrounded the base. They were miles from it, but they were facing the direction of the Mediterranean, and the same beach where they'd been attacked, courtesy of Jarif. Not for the first time, Dalton was glad they'd killed the bastard.

Dalton quickened his pace. "Jaz!" he called as he came up behind her. He slowed, touching her arm, urging her to look at him. "Jaz."

"What?" she snapped, brown eyes sparkling defiantly.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Realizing her mistake, she let out a breath, forcing her shoulders to release some of their tension. "Sorry. That was out of line. What do you need, Top?"

"I think I should be asking you that question," he pointed out. "What's going on?"

She stayed quiet for a moment, twisting her mouth and not quite looking at him. "I don't like this," she muttered finally. "That girl is still missing and we need to find her. That guy, Hoffman, has answers, and—I don't trust him. He's—"

"Pushing everyone's buttons," he finished for her. "I know."

Jaz was staring at the ground, and he thought of what Hoffman said to her. _Does your boyfriend always have this short of a fuse?_ Dalton hadn't thought too much about the question, or Jaz's immediate response in that moment. All he could think about was stepping in, getting Alex's attention off her. He didn't trust the guy either, not even a little. Hoffman had been harassing and trying to manipulate his team all day, and that was where Dalton drew the line. Hoffman could throw whatever he wanted in Dalton's direction—he would take it. But not his team.

When he'd targeted Jaz…well, he'd lost a little bit of his control. And he knew that Iran was still too fresh in his mind. It had only been two weeks. Despite the talk he'd had with Jaz that night by the fire, he still thought about it. He knew she was doing better, sleeping better. But there was one or twice this week that he'd heard her up, and knew that she was still working through everything that happened.

Still, she could take care of herself, he knew that. She didn't need his protection. But he wanted to. Protect her, that is. He couldn't help it. He tried not to think too hard about why that was. He didn't know if it was because of Iran or something else. He remembered what else Alex had said, about crossing lines with a coworker. Dalton clenched his jaw and shook his head to get rid of those kinds of thoughts.

"I don't like this either," he said finally. "There's more going on here, and I can't…" he trailed off, frustrated, running a hand across the back of his neck. "I can't figure out what it is. what kind of game he's playing at. But hopefully with Patricia on the ground we'll figure it out. And we'll get that girl home safe."

Jaz was silent for a long moment. Then, "Yeah. You're right."

She looked up and met his eyes. They stood like that for a minute. Dalton counted the seconds, feeling his heart beat a little harder in his chest. He thought, not for the first time in the past couple weeks, how close he'd come to losing her, and how glad he was that she was here with him.

Jaz was the first to speak, shifting on her feet. "Look, Top, what he said in there, about you being my boyfriend—"

He shook his head dismissively. "It's okay. It's nothing, right?" he said like it wasn't one of the only things on his mind, like he couldn't still hear that word— _boyfriend_ —rolling around in his head. "He's been trying to get a rise out of us all day. He was just messing with us."

She chewed on her bottom lip, averting her gaze. "Right." She huffed out a laugh, visibly trying to relax and ease some of the tension in the air between them. "You're right, it's nothing."

He wanted to say more. He wanted to know what she thought when that word _boyfriend_ had broken the air. Wanted to know if she was dwelling on it like he was. He'd never really thought of Jaz like that before. Partly because he was her CO and he wasn't supposed to think of her like that. But the second Alex had brought it up, Dalton thought of all their little moments over the years. They'd been close since the beginning, able to talk to each other in a way that he often couldn't with other members of the team, save for Preach. They'd always been good at reading each other, at having silent conversations out in the field. It had probably saved both their lives more time than he could count, that silent communication.

Then there were the other moments, the ones where they laughed and teased each other. He thought of the way they'd practically flirted in Spain, how he'd pointed out the constellations to her. He thought of the other night, after they'd opened up to each other, how she asked him to point out the constellations again. He'd spent a long time telling her the stories behind the stars, and it was the most at peace he'd felt in a while.

He wasn't her boyfriend, couldn't even entertain that thought without consequences. But he did know that he cared about Jaz a lot. Probably more than he should. Maybe he had feelings for her, he wasn't sure. But at the very least, she was one of his best friends, and he didn't want to lose that.

"Top?" Jaz said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

When he looked at her, he realized she must've been saying his name for a while. He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Yeah, let's head back over. Hopefully Director Campbell's ready to tell us what's going on."

They turned and headed back towards the rest of the team. They were anxiously waiting outside the base. Amir was pacing slowly, McG was sitting on one of the crates that were stacked outside, and Preach had barely moved from his position of leaning against one of the vehicles.

As they passed, Preach gave him another knowing smile, one that told Dalton Preach had heard the "boyfriend" comment and probably knew exactly what Dalton was thinking. Dalton just gave him a stern look, and Preach held back a laugh.

"Any word from Campbell yet?" he asked Preach.

"Not a peep."

"All right, well let's do inventory again. McG, check medical supplies. Preach, make sure we have fuel in the trucks. Amir, Jaz, let's make sure we have enough ammunition and that our equipment is ready to go," Dalton ordered. He knew that they'd already checked everything, but at the moment they didn't have anything else to do besides wait for Patricia or D.C. to give them something that would help them find this missing girl.

Dalton watched his team disperse, then exhaled slowly. Preach came and stood at his side. "It's gonna work out, Adam."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, watching Jaz disappear around the corner.

-:-

Jaz went in a side door with Amir, and they grabbed their equipment and brought it outside. With the last load in hand, Jaz whistled for Patton, and the dog followed her outside to the yard.

"Good boy," she murmured to the dog as he trotted alongside them. Amir smiled down at the dog as they started going through their duffels and other equipment bags, checking all their weapons and gear.

As they went through their bags, Jaz found herself looking up at Dalton. He was standing by one of the vehicles Preach was checking, talking with the other man. She didn't know why she'd brought up the boyfriend comment to him. She'd just felt the need to say something, to make it clear that she didn't think of Dalton that way. They were close, she knew that. In some ways, she was probably closer to him than any of the other guys on the team because he understood her at such a fundamental level. They were a lot alike, and he'd been the first person she'd really opened up to after Elijah died, and that meant something to her.

The comment hadn't really bothered her. She was used to getting those kind of remarks, with her being a woman in a male-dominated field and all. And yet, here she was, mulling over it. _But it's not like that_ , she told herself. She didn't see him as anything more than her friend and CO. At least she was pretty sure she didn't. He meant a lot to her, and that was all.

"You're staring," Amir commented.

She glowered at him, tearing her gaze away from Dalton. Amir just gave her a teasing smile in return. Patton, laying at her feet, gave a little sigh like he agreed with Amir.

"Shut up," she muttered. "I was not."

"Okay, no need to get all defensive." Amir laughed. Despite herself, Jaz smiled a little too. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Amir glance at their CO. Dalton was on coms now, probably talking to D.C. Jaz focused on counting out extra magazines of ammo as Amir turned back in her direction. "Hoffman can just see that you guys care about each other," Amir said, no doubt referencing Alex's jab at her. "You're the only woman on the team—"

"Gee, thanks for pointing that out," she said, going into defensive mode automatically. She cringed then, glancing at Amir. "Sorry."

He gave her a forgiving smile. "I just meant that you're the only woman on the team, so that's probably why he targeted you. If it had been McG right next to you, he probably would've implied you two were together."

Jaz found herself laughing at the thought, feeling better as Amir grinned too. She nodded her head in agreement. "You're right," she said, echoing her earlier statement to Dalton, giving Amir a grateful look. They'd gotten off to a rocky start, her and Amir. Mostly because she had been angry when he'd brought on. It hadn't even been a year since Elijah, and she'd been pissed that they were replacing him. But Amir wasn't a replacement. He was his own person, and when she'd swallowed her pride and anger down, she'd seen that. He was a good man and a good friend. She should've known that she would come to like him. After all, Dalton handpicked Amir for the team.

And just like that, her eyes sought out Dalton again. He was helping Preach prep the vehicles. _The boyfriend comment didn't mean anything_ , she repeated to herself. And really, it didn't. Still, if she allowed herself to admit it, this wasn't the first time she'd caught herself watching him from afar. There had been quiet moments before when she'd found herself observing him, watching him work, and admired the way he led the team. She loved being a sniper, but watching Dalton do what he did best, _leading_ , it sometimes made her want to have a team of her own. At the very least, she wanted to be the best that she could be because of him. Because she didn't want to let him down.

So maybe, in the farthest corners of her mind and the deepest parts of her heart, she'd thought about Dalton as more than just her friend, or a team leader that she admired. He wasn't bad to look at, for starters. But it was more than that. She thought of the way he'd told her about the constellations, once in Spain, then again a few weeks ago, sitting by a fire. She thought of the way it felt to hear her name for the first time in days when Dalton and McG pulled her from the back of that truck in Tehran. Thought of the way Dalton held onto her the van, his voice as he said _I got you, I got you. You're all right._ She thought of how it made her feel at home.

She didn't know what all of that meant. Elijah would probably know exactly what to say to her in this moment. After teasing her relentlessly, of course. She exhaled slowly. Elijah wasn't here. He was gone. She flicked her gaze up to Amir, who was focused intently on double-checking the equipment they'd already double-checked.

"Thank you," she said after a moment.

He blinked, looking a little surprised. "For what?"

Jaz shrugged, offered him a small smile. "For saying what I needed to hear. The mind games Alex is playing at…they don't bother me that much. But I still need a reminder that they're just that. Games."

Amir nodded a little absently, like that was a reminder he'd needed too.

"Just pisses me off, you know?" she said. "He's playing games while there's a sixteen year old girl out there who just lost her dad and is probably scared out of her mind."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Amir said quietly.

Amir met her eyes and Jaz thought of Paris, sitting in the car with Dalton in the pouring rain while he told her about Amir's sister dying in an explosion that left almost nothing of a body to bury.

"We're going to get Varina back," she told Amir, because she was pretty sure he needed to hear it. Dalton had said it before, and now she was sure of it. They would do whatever it took to get this girl home safe.

After a moment, Amir's mouth twitched into half a smile. "Yeah, we are."

Jaz grinned, and they finished going through their equipment. Moments after they zipped up the last of the duffel bags, Dalton came over and told them Patricia was ready for them to come back in, that Hoffman was ready to talk.

Jaz followed Dalton, Preach, and McG, Amir by her side.

No, she didn't know what she felt for Dalton, and she may have lost her best friend. It made things complicated sometimes, confusing. But the one thing she knew for certain was that this team was her family, and she would do anything to protect them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Final chapter time! This one is based off the finale, and I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has supported this story, it really means a lot and I really love this little fandom! Just a little note, the part about Dalton's sister, the one who died, Dean Georgaris tweeted a week ago now? Sometime recently. Anyway, he tweeted some pics of the script from 1x13, the scene with Dalton and Hoffman, and one of the lines originally said that Dalton's sister died in a car accident, so I took some liberties with that!**

 **I also have two more short sequel stories planned set after this fic! I won't make any promises, because I'm a busy gal (aka in my last semester of undergrad right now), but I really do hope to get them up soon! And those two fics will be much more Jaz and Dalton centric, and also fluffier! (In some parts anyway, because I really can't go fully angst-free lol).**

 **Thanks again to my bestie luverofjamesandlily for proofreading this for me!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **-:-**

" _Dalton, Campbell and Preach aren't responding to their coms,_ "

They were out in the yard, about to get into the SUV McG had pulled around when the message came through. Dalton felt his team tense up around him as Hannah paused on the other end of the line. He could see it in their faces, the seconds it took them to process what Hannah had said, and the way they reacted, hands twitching towards guns ready to fire on an enemy they couldn't see. Just a moment ago they had been victorious that their submarine hadn't landed in enemy waters. Now, his team waited for him to respond, to do something.

But he was frozen. Patricia and Preach weren't responding, and they'd been alone on base with Alex Hoffman. Dalton clenched his jaw, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He didn't know what had happened, but his stomach twisted and a bad taste rose in his mouth.

" _Dalton—_ "

"Yeah, I copy, Hannah. We're moving out now," he responded robotically, keeping his voice carefully controlled.

He lifted a hand, signaling for his team to move. They did, Jaz guiding Varina around to one side of the vehicle and urging her in, Amir climbing in beside them. McG took back the driver's seat, and Dalton grabbed the passenger seat, McG hardly waiting for him to close the door before he was driving off the warehouse lot.

Dalton rubbed a hand across his jaw, clenching his other fist where it rested against his leg. Hannah updated them through their coms as they drove, telling them that she still hadn't heard from Preach or Campbell, and now she was waiting on news from any of the other personnel on the Incirlik base. Out of the corner of his eye he could see McGuire's hands tighten on the wheel.

"Easy," he told the medic. He probably didn't have any right to judge, because he was tense, wanting the vehicle to go faster, but driving recklessly wouldn't do any of them any good. "Varina, when we get to base, I need you to stay in the car while we check on something. Can you do that?"

Dalton twisted to look at the girl, seated in between Jaz and Amir.

Varina's brows scrunched together. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Jaz said, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "We just need to make sure the situation is clear before we bring you in."

Varina nodded slowly, probably too tired and in shock to ask anymore questions. Dalton looked up and met Jaz's eyes, dipping his head gratefully. She was holding Varina close to her, but had a defiant fire in her eyes that told Dalton the only thing keeping her together in that moment was the girl in the seat next to her.

When Elijah died, it had been no more than a moment. Gunfire, Jaz's panicked voice over the coms and, later, the blood on her hands from when she'd tried to staunch the flow. It had hurt but the moment itself had been quick. This, the _waiting_ , it killed him. He knew Jaz, Amir and McG, they felt the same. It seemed like they'd been doing a hell of a lot of waiting lately and Dalton was reaching his limit. He couldn't stand it if someone else got hurt. He turned back around, staring out the windshield at the road as they got closer and closer to base, praying to Preach's God that he and Patricia were okay.

When they got to base, there were already two ambulances out front, lights flashing, and other soldiers and medics were milling around the section of base they called home. The tires squealed as McG pulled to a quick stop. They clambered out, Dalton taking a moment to look back at Varina again. Jaz squeezed the girl's hand, but then she was out of the vehicle and shutting the door.

"Varina, stay here," he said gently but firmly.

"But—"

"Please, stay here," he told the girl, and she sat back in her seat giving him a jerky nod. "I'll send another team over here in just a few minutes to come and take you somewhere safe, okay?"

"Okay."

Dalton gave her a tight smile before he followed his team out of the car. They were waiting for him, though he could tell they were all itching to move. He walked in front of them and then they were on his heels, following his lead. Nobody tried to stop them as they made their way into base. Even before they got through the door Dalton could smell the explosives. He picked up his pace a little, the others following suit. They made it into their Quonset hut just as medics were lifting Preach and Patricia onto gurneys.

He stopped in his tracks, looking first at Patricia, before he turned his attention to Preach. Dalton's vision narrowed in on the blood on the side of his friend's face. Jaz made a little noise at his shoulder. McG was the first to move, asking questions as he followed the medics out of the building as they carried their teammates out. Amir started walking the space, but Dalton couldn't seem to unstick himself from where he stood. He looked around, noting the rubble, the water on the floor. Hoffman's chair was tipped over, the restraints cut, and the man was nowhere to be seen.

Dalton's panic, his fear, it washed away and was replaced by cool, simmering anger. He ground his teeth together, and turned to find the nearest person who could tell him what happened. The nearest soldier told him that they'd heard the explosion on base, and made their way to the Quonset hut as fast as they could. The soldier didn't mention Hoffman, but no one else on base was supposed to know he was there. Hoffman must've gotten away before the medics and other soldiers showed up. That was good, Dalton supposed. He didn't want anyone else involved with the bastard.

Preach and the Deputy Director were both alive, is what the soldier told him, and they'd found Patton barking in his kennel where they'd left him before leaving to get Varina back. At that, Jaz went to find the dog, who the soldiers had left in his cage so he didn't get in the way. Dalton nodded, and informed the man that Varina was in the back of their truck.

"We'll have a medic here on base check her out until we can get in contact with a family member," the soldier said.

"Thank you," Dalton muttered.

The other man departed with a polite nod of his head. Dalton stared at the ground, trying to cool the rage in his chest. His fingers itched to grab his gun, a knife, _anything_. Hoffman hurt Patricia and he hurt Preach, and Dalton wanted him dead. He knew the man was too dangerous to be kept alive, and Hoffman had just proven his point further. He'd been pissed when Hoffman had been verbally targeting his team members. It had set everyone on edge. Just hours ago, Jaz had stomped off in frustration, and Dalton had followed, because he shared those same frustrations. Words were one thing. But trying to blow up his friends, his teammates—

"Top," Amir's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

McG was coming back into the hut, too, and Jaz, in the corner, just out of reach of the damage, murmured some final soothing words to Patton before relocking him in his kennel. The dog laid down with hardly a sound.

His team gathered around him, waiting, expecting him to have answers. But he didn't have any. It was just like when Jaz had been taken. They had all looked to him—as they should have because he was their leader. But his emotions were overriding his rational brain. He was just as pissed off and confused as they were. That just made him more frustrated. He wanted to have answers. He wanted to tell them everything was going to be fine. But he couldn't do that. He heard the sirens of the ambulance start up, glanced through the door to see the lights flash blue and red before disappearing from view.

McG too a step forward. "Top—"

" _Don't_ ," he cut the other man off firmly, raising a hand. "Don't. Just—give me a minute."

McG blinked, but didn't say anything. Dalton paced out of the little circle they'd created around him. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, walking the area as Amir had been doing. He looked around, and his eyes landed on Hoffman's chair again. He'd told Jaz about his dark side, that part of himself that emerged for the first time in Fallujah and that hadn't gone away since. That part of him was always there, slumbering, waiting for the right moment to wake. And he could feel it, slowly rousing inside of him, sliding through him thick and hot and full of rage. All he could see was Preach's blood and Hoffman's empty chair.

This was the moment when he would look to Preach, or the other man would come to him with some words of wisdom, to help calm whatever storm was brewing in his mind whenever he was frustrated or couldn't figure something out. Preach had been there when Jaz had been taken, to snap him out of his stupors and make him take a step back so he could try again, and because of that, they'd gotten her back. But Preach wasn't here now to help him, and he didn't know what to do. In many ways, Preach was an anchor for him, his best friend who knew him best, and could generally tell what he was thinking before he did.

Dalton took a breath, put on the face of team leader, and slowly turned. Preach wasn't here, but he had to be strong for his friend, for the rest of the team. He tried not to look as tired as he felt, which was probably a little hard. All of this, the news about Preach and the Deputy Director, it exhausted him, and it didn't help that they'd all been awake for nearly forty-eight hours. He'd taken one short nap since this mission had landed in their laps, and he was sure he would've conked out once they'd gotten Varina safe, until this.

"Get your gear put away," he ordered them, giving McG a brief apologetic look. "We'll worry about mission reports tomorrow. Jaz, I want you to grab Patton and take him to another hut on base. Amir, McG, check in with Varina. Make sure she's got everything she needs. When you're done, head on over to the hospital."

Dalton started stripping some of his own gear. This time, Jaz moved first. She met his eyes and gave his arm a squeeze as she walked by, heading to Patton's cage. Amir followed, shedding some of his gear and stowing it away.

"What about you?" McG asked, a hint of caution in his tone. Behind Preach, McG had known Dalton the longest, and Dalton knew how to recognize when the medic was worried about him.

Adam removed the rest of his gear, leaving his sidearm on him. He took out his com last, putting it down on one of the empty equipment tables in the cage. He'd take care of it later. He looked at McG as he headed for the door. "I just need a little time. I'll meet up with you guys as soon as I can."

"Top—"

"McGuire." Dalton stared at his teammate, daring McG to challenge him. But finally, after a long moment, McG backed down with a nod. Dalton took a step forward and clapped McG on the shoulder. "I'll be back soon. Go be with Preach."

He barely waited for McGuire's response before he was heading out into the yard, watching the last of the soldiers mill around. He headed for one of the trucks they'd prepped earlier, and got in, starting the engine.

His team wanted answers, resolution, and he was going to make sure they got it.

-:-

"God, I hate hospitals." Jaz muttered, half to herself, but loud enough that Amir could hear. "The smells, all the machines."

She was purposely not looking at Preach, at all the said machines he was hooked up to. She knew they were keeping him alive, but the noise, their beeping, it was all just a big reminder that he was in a coma. Hoffman had put him in a _coma_. Jaz was pissed, of course. But more than anything, she was trying not to collapse from exhaustion and worry. The whole team had been going non-stop for 48 hours, with minimal rest in between. They'd done it before, but usually they could wrap up the mission, relax, and then crash. But this, Hoffman's bomb hurting two members of their team, it was the final straw. It was pure determination keeping her eyes open at this point. That and the fact that she didn't want to fall asleep for fear of nightmares. It had only been a few weeks since she'd been taken and now this.

"Has anyone contacted his wife?" Amir asked, getting up from the chair beside Preach's bed and coming to stand beside her.

"I was waiting for Top to do it," she replied.

But Top wasn't there. He'd said he'd meet them at the hospital, but they'd been here for almost two hours and there'd been no sign of him. Jaz wasn't really surprised. Preach was his best friend. It had been a rough couple of months and this was just another punch in the gut. She had her suspicions as to where he was—they'd all seen Hoffman's empty chair, so she knew the thought had crossed their minds. Still, no matter where Dalton was, she just wanted him to be there.

Gently, Amir said, "I think you should just go ahead. He's gonna be awhile."

She nodded, exhaling. Before she lost the will do to it, Jaz headed down the hall and pulled the sat phone from her pocket. Jaz glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn't even 9:30 yet. It felt so much later. And it wasn't even lunch time in California where Preach and his family lived, but she figured if Preach's wife, Angela, saw the sat phone number, she'd pick up. Jaz took a deep breath and dialed.

The phone started to ring and she shifted on her feet. She'd talked to Angela before, had seen her on Preach's skype calls, and she'd always been pleasant and incredibly nice. But Jaz didn't feel like she had any right to be making this call. It should be Dalton doing it, since he'd known Preach and his family for a decade at this point. Before she could second-guess herself, someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" Angela said, a little warily, which made sense. It was a sat phone number, but it wasn't Preach's or Dalton's, which would reasonably cause a little confusion.

"Hi, Angela, it's me, Jaz." She bit her lip, a little impressed at how she'd managed to keep her voice from shaking. But she had to stay strong, for Angela and for Preach.

"Jaz, hi," Angela said brightly. Then there was a pause, a sharp moment of realization that Jaz felt on the other side of the world. "What happened?"

Jaz had to give it to the woman. Her voice was steady, with only the slightest tremble beneath her words. She was smart, too, knowing that Jaz wouldn't normally have called if everything was fine like normal.

So Jaz told her what happened, that Preach was in a coma, that he was stable for the moment, but the doctor's were keeping an eye on him for the next 48 hours to be able to give them a better estimate of whether he would wake up or not. Jaz hated being the bearer of bad news, but she kept her voice calm, and her words didn't shake. She only wished she could be there in person to give Angela a hug. Instead, she told the other woman that her husband was one of the strongest people she knew, and that if anyone could pull out of this, it would be him.

Not long after, they hung up, and Jaz took another deep breath. She tucked her phone back into her pocket, blinking away the tears beginning to burn in her eyes. She couldn't do this. She couldn't lose another team member. She believed that Preach would pull out of this—she had to. Because she couldn't stand another death, not right now. In six weeks it would be the one year anniversary of Elijah's death, and she was already starting to feel that weighing down on her.

Once again, she wished Dalton was there. He always knew the right thing to say to her, even if he was feeling the same way she was. He just had that ability to calm her down and ease her worries even in the worst situations. Instead she was just standing here worrying about him, about Preach, about the Deputy Director. She was stuck in the stupid hospital, with the bright lights and the godawful smells of cleaning supplies and antiseptic.

She felt helpless, waiting around like this. She needed to do something. Not ready to go back and stand vigil at Preach's side, she made her way to the front desk, and asked for Preach's personal effects. She rifled through them, taking count of what was there.

"And his sidearm?" she asked the nurse at the station.

The woman shook her head. "He didn't come in with a sidearm, ma'am."

Jaz blinked, her brow furrowing. "You're sure?"

The nurse grabbed a clipboard, flipped a couple sheets of paper over, eyes scanning down a list of items. She glanced up, looking a little apologetic. "Sorry, no sidearm."

Jaz's stomach dropped sickeningly, panic rising in her throat. She pushed the bag of Preach's stuff back towards the nurse, muttering a quick thank you before walking quickly back towards Preach's room. There had to be some kind of reasoning behind it. It could've fallen out of his holster in the explosion. He could've set it down while on base, for some reason, and didn't put it back before Hoffman's bomb went off. Either way, there was an explanation, _there had to be._ Then she thought of Hoffman's empty chair, the cut bindings. The thought of Hoffman walking over to Preach's unconscious body and grabbing his weapon made her angry—and scared.

"Preach didn't have his sidearm on him when he was brought in," Jaz told Amir as she came into the doorway of Preach's room, trying to remain calm. She didn't know anything for sure yet, so there was no use getting worked up over nothing.

Amir angled in his seat towards her. "What are you talking about?"

"When Preach was brought in, I just checked with admitting, he didnot have his sidearm on him," she repeated, Amir's reaction heightening her worry. "Did you see it?"

Amir stared at her for a moment, clearly trying to put the pieces together. A little sluggishly, he shook his head. "No—"

Jaz leaned against the door frame, looking over at Preach's bed, trying to keep from panicking. Her palms were sweaty, so she wiped them against her pants.

Amir stood, approaching her. "Jaz,"

"Preach didn't have his gun on him," she said again, "and Hoffman's chair was empty. The bindings were cut. If you didn't see the gun and—I mean we both know Preach wouldn't have just left it out and—"

She blew out a breath as Amir grabbed one of her hands. She squeezed his fingers back, reassured by the touch. It was hard to ever think she'd disliked Amir. He'd wiggled his way into her life so quickly, and she was more grateful than she could say that he was there.

"He's going to be okay," Amir told her gently, and she knew they weren't talking about Preach anymore. Amir had clearly put everything together, and could tell exactly where her mind had gone.

"Yeah." She tried smiling, tried to release some of the tension knotting in her chest.

She let Amir guide her into the room, and together they stood watching over Preach.

-:-

Dalton was utterly calm as Alex Hoffman sat across from him at the table in Varina's apartment. Sometimes the calm scared him more than getting angry, because it was the worst kind of peace, knowing what he was about to do. He didn't have qualms about killing people who deserved it, not anymore. But when that dark part of his surfaced, awakened inside of him, he almost enjoyed the kill. A hell of a lot more than he should. Those were the moments when the line between him and the bad guys blurred, and they were all just people killing other people, awash in so much blood that it became impossible to tell whose it was or how many lives had been taken.

But there were times when the calm helped, like right now. He could tell that Hoffman was surprised by his presence, and no it didn't necessarily make him better than the rogue agent, but it did give him a sense of satisfaction, gave him the upper hand. Because he came here with one purpose, and it wasn't what Hoffman had come for. Adam didn't doubt that Hoffman would kill him given the chance—he would probably try before this was all over—but all Dalton could see was a target on Hoffman's forehead. He didn't care about the intel or the laptop or any of it. All he cared about was the fact that his best friend was in a hospital bed. He didn't know Preach's condition, but it didn't matter. Preach and Patricia were hurt, and Hoffman would pay.

Dalton made that clear when he told the other man that he wasn't better, as Hoffman had implied, just that he'd live longer.

"I guess this is how it ends for guys like us," Hoffman said. "Not some 21-gun salute and a field full of weeping loved ones."

"Yeah, just in a dark room," Adam mused, his gun quietly trained on Hoffman, "with another quiet professional."

Hoffman looked at him, probably trying to read something in his features. But Dalton was steel. He wouldn't give this man anything more than he'd already taken.

"You know I grew up in California," Hoffman said suddenly, changing the subject. "You?"

"Pennsylvania," Dalton indulged him.

"I wanted to be an astronaut."

Dalton nodded a little. "Firefighter."

"Only child? No, that's right, you had three younger sisters. One of them died when you were sixteen, thanks to your dad, the drunk." Hoffman said, and there was a strange glint in the other man's eyes, and Dalton could only imagine it was the look Alex had given his team members as he'd toyed with them all for the past two days.

Dalton had no idea how Hoffman knew about his sister—the only people he'd told the whole story to was Patricia and Preach. And even then, it had taken him years to tell Preach. Patricia had asked when she'd seen in his files that the oldest of his sisters was deceased, and he'd trusted her enough to give her the details. It was a long time ago, but he remembered the car crash clear as day. Adam and his sister, Sarah, who had been twelve at the time, had asked to go to the movies. Dalton had been sixteen, but he still had hope that his father would get better, that if he kept trying, kept doing things with his dad, the drinking would stop, and so would the beatings.

Their dad had been sober when he took them to the movie. But not even halfway through, he'd started bouncing his leg, getting agitated, and left. When the movie was over, Adam had waited with his sister in the lobby for nearly an hour, and when their dad finally pulled the car up in front of the theater, he was slurring his words, smelling like beer and whiskey as they'd climbed into the car. Dalton had sat in the back with Sarah, behind the driver's seat. She was still young enough that she didn't fully understand why their dad was the way he was. And what she did understand, Adam tried to protect her from, as much as he could.

He still thought about the fact if he'd just switched seats with her, if he'd been on the passenger side instead…Dalton hadn't noticed the red light as his dad ran it, but he remembered the bright yellow beams of the other car as it sliced through the windows of theirs. He remembered the blaring of the other car's horn, and the moment of fear right before the other car hit theirs. The cars made a terrible crunching noise as they hit, glass shattering. Adam had been jerked around, seatbelt tightening across his chest and lap. When the car finally stopped spinning, he first noticed the pain in his own head where he must've hit it against the window. He looked at Sarah next, fear spiking in his chest when he noticed the blood on her half shattered window, the small trickle of blood at her nose, the stillness with which she sat slumped in the seat.

He remembered the medics saying later that she died on impact, hitting her head hard enough that it killed her, but all he could think was that it wasn't the car crash that killed her. It was their father.

The memories flooded his brain in a manner of seconds, but he refused to show any sign of it to Hoffman. The other man simply regarded him and asked, "Do you think that's what makes men like us? Pain like that?"

"I think it definitely fuels the fire," Dalton responded, pushing the memories to the back of his mind. "But I believe we are who we are."

"Nature over nurture."

"Mm hmm."

Hoffman smiled a little. "I'm inclined to agree. You know, it's funny. I'm looking around the room memorizing all the details. But you don't have memories when you're dead."

"You know, maybe, hell is the perfect memory of everything we've ever done," Adam said.

"You better hope not, for both our sakes," Hoffman replied, looking more panicked than Dalton had seen yet.

The corner of Adam's mouth curved up a fraction. "I think I'll take my chances."

He didn't have much of a relationship with God to begin with, but if he did, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be going anywhere high above. He'd done some bad things in his time, but as long as he'd done a little good along the way as well, he was at peace with that, so it didn't matter where he wound up in the end.

Hoffman settled back into his seat, hand twitching in his lap, minutely reaching for the gun Dalton suspected he had. "So? You're not gonna take me in, are you?"

Instead of answering his question directly, Dalton stared at Hoffman, his own gun not wavering as he reached down into the dark part of himself. "There's this quote that I love," he started slowly. "It says, uh, 'people sleep peacefully in their beds at night, only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf'."

Hoffman raised his eyebrows, hand moving another fraction of an inch. "Is that what this is? Violence on their behalf? Nice try, Adam. Nice spin. It doesn't matter how dangerous I am. This is simple. It's just murder. Basic murder."

Dalton had to give it to Hoffman for trying to get into his head. But Adam was waiting for it. Had been waiting for it since Alex arrived on base. So when the other man reached for his gun, Dalton was ready, and fired, the gun skittering away as Hoffman dropped it and cradled his now injured hand gingerly in his lap.

Hoffman looked up at him, giving Adam a look that said he couldn't blame him for trying.

Dalton just gave him the tiniest of wicked smiles. "I won't say anything if you don't."

There was the slightest hint of fear in Hoffman's eyes as Dalton raised his gun and fired once. Hoffman's body tipped back out of his chair, a trickle of blood flowing out of the hole in his head.

Dalton swallowed and leaned back in his chair, holstering his gun. The calm washed over him again, satisfying the pit in his stomach that had been eating away at him since he'd heard Hannah over the coms. He knew the calm, the rage and the darkness would evaporate soon enough, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

But for now, he took a breath, sitting in the dark and silence once again.

-:-

When Dalton returned to base, it felt like it had been days since they'd rescued Varina, since Preach and Patricia had gotten hurt. Walking into the Quonset hut, even that looked different. He'd been so stuck on Preach when they'd arrived there a few hours ago, so filled with rage and determination to find Hoffman that he hadn't really taken everything in. Now he noted with more detail and clarity the rubble covering the floor, the puddles of dirty water, the smoky smell that still lingered in the air.

He knew he should head to the hospital, but he hadn't fully calmed down yet, and he wanted a little more time alone before he went and joined his team. And maybe a small part of him also didn't want to know what kind of condition Preach and Patricia were in. They'd both been alive, but unconscious when the ambulances had taken them away. He wanted to believe they would both be all right, but a part of him still feared the worst.

Putting it off would only make that feeling grow. With a deep breath, Dalton was about to turn and head outside to where he'd left the truck when his eye caught on something on the floor. Taking a step closer he saw Patricia's watch, the locket she always had with her. Bending down, he pulled the necklace out of the murky water puddling on the floor and wiped it off. Just like that, some of the tension released from his body. He could feel the exhaustion setting in, but also the need to be with his team. He'd been gone from them without a word for far too long.

When he arrived at the hospital, he checked with the front desk to see what rooms his friends were in. The nurse relayed the information to him, also telling him that Patricia was stable, and probably just resting in her room.

"And Chief Petty Officer Carter? What's his condition?" he asked carefully.

The nurse gave him a gentle look. "Short version, he's in a coma. He's stable for right now, but we're going to be monitoring him over the next couple days to see how he progresses."

Dalton swallowed, bobbing his head, not quite looking at the woman at the desk. "Thank you," he said, heart sinking in his chest. He took a shaky breath, offered one more thank you, and then turned, deciding to check in with Patricia first. The halls were quiet as he walked to her room, the early morning sun filtering through the windows. He couldn't help but think that they should be celebrating, sleeping in or having a nice breakfast after getting Varina home safe. Instead they were camped out in a hospital, exhausted and desperate for good news.

Quietly, Adam slipped into the Deputy Director's room. She was curled up in her hospital bed asleep, looking smaller than he was used to seeing her, but other than that she was fine from what he could tell. He stepped right up to her bed and poured the locket into her palm. She stirred, slowly blinking her eyes, her fingers twitching and closing around the locket. He slipped his hand into hers, crouching down next to her bed.

She was awake now, watching him. She clenched her fingers around the necklace, eyes shining with the beginnings of tears. Whether those tears were for what happened, for Preach, for him, or for Alex, the agent she lost years ago, he didn't know. What he did know, as Patricia scanned his face, is that she knew exactly what he'd done. She gave the slightest nod of her head, and that was all he needed to know that, despite him going dark to do it, she approved.

He squeezed her hand in response.

"Go be with your team," she told him, voice barely above a whisper.

Adam gave her a small smile. "Yes, ma'am." He touched her shoulder as he stood, adjusting her blanket a little higher. "Get some sleep."

She didn't close her eyes, but gave him another small nod. Dalton looked at her one more time over his shoulder before he left, and then headed down the hall towards Preach's room. He could see his team in the room, standing vigil over Preach in a loose circle. Jaz was saying something about how quiet it was as he came in. The exhaustion truly settled into his bones as he looked at his best friend, unconscious, in a _coma_ , so still and silent in his hospital bed.

"You know he'd have something to say right now, right?" McG said, trying to joke, but his voice not quite shaking the serious tone. "He'd be like, 'McGuire, baby, you know it's always darkest before the dawn'."

"No, he wouldn't," Dalton jumped in automatically, quietly, eyes glued to Preach as he shifted on his feet. "It makes way too much sense. It'd have to be, uh, be a little more cryptic. You know, like, um, 'the sun and the moon are twins'."

Jaz smiled a little at that.

"'Trials are the precursors to triumphs'," Amir added.

"'The river of life runs through the rapids we call adversity'," Jaz said with a dry chuckle as she tried to imitate Preach.

McG shook his head a little, smiling. "Man, where does he even come up with this stuff?"

"Certainly not from books," Amir said quietly.

"No," Adam agreed, moving the chair against the wall closer to Preach's bed and sitting down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jaz inch a little closer to him, and he was grateful for her—for all of them—for being there. "He's tapped into something else entirely."

They fell silent after that, and Dalton reached for Preach's hand with both of his. He squeezed his friend's hand lightly. He blinked, his eyes burning. He heard Jaz swallow thickly at his side, probably holding back her own tears. Dalton didn't believe in a higher power, but he bowed his head, and prayed again. He'd prayed more in the last couple hours than he had in years. He did it for Preach, for his team, for Patricia. They'd been through so much in the last few months, the last year. They deserved better than this.

Dalton had meant what he'd said to Hoffman. Hell was probably the best he was going to get at the end of this, but Preach deserved better, his team _deserved better_. And he hoped with everything he had that Preach would be okay. Because he couldn't take losing someone else. He was their leader and he was supposed to prevent this from happening.

Like she could sense his thoughts, Jaz reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just so. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch. He had to believe that everything would be okay.

-:-

Jaz didn't know how long they stood around Preach's bed in the silence, just listening to the beep of machines. Dalton held onto Preach for a long time, like if he just kept holding on, he could will Preach into waking up. She'd had a similar thought, like if she just stayed there, kept watching and waiting, eventually he would open his eyes. But the machines kept up their steady beeping, breathing for Preach and keeping him alive.

It had to be at least an hour, though it felt a lot longer, when Dalton lifted his head. He looked at all of them. "We've been going non-stop for nearly 48 hours, why don't you guys go get some rest? They've got some extra bunks in Captain Reynold's Quonset hut on base."

"No can-do, Top," McG said gruffly but politely, with a small shake of his head. "We're staying right here."

Jaz watched Dalton. She was pretty sure he wanted to say something about disobeying orders, but he looked too tired to even pull rank on any of them right now. "Okay, fine. At the very least, go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. If you're gonna be here all night, might as well make sure you don't pass out from hunger."

McG looked like he wanted to argue some more, but Jaz shot him a look over Dalton's shoulder. Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue. He closed his mouth, and nodded. Amir clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, McGuire," Amir said lightly. Amir looked over at her, the question clear in his eyes. _You coming?_ Jaz shook her head. Dalton could argue with her all he wanted, but she was staying right by his side. Amir seemed to understand this, and she gave him a grateful look as he and McG left the room and disappeared down the hall.

Jaz ducked into the hall so she could grab another chair, when she brought it back in and set it down next to Top's, he looked up at her. If he was surprised or upset with her staying, he didn't say anything. She knew he might want a minute alone with Preach at some point, but right now, he didn't seem to have it in him to protest. Jaz understood. She was exhausted, probably a little hungry herself, but she didn't want to leave right now. Partly because she didn't want to risk getting nightmares if she got some rest, but also because she wanted to check in with Dalton. He'd do the same for her, so she could only return the favor.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, Dalton's hands folded in his lap as he stared at the medical machines.

Jaz swallowed, looking over at him. The last time they'd sat like this, side by side, it'd been on a bench in front of a fire, with the stars glittering overhead. She thought about how, just earlier that day, she'd come out with her hair straightened, make-up done, wearing that outfit, how Dalton's eyes had lit up, just so. Enough for her to catch. McG had whistled and given her a high-five, telling her she looked great and that he would be honored to play the role of her asshole of an ex. She'd just laughed as Amir rolled his eyes. She tried not to think too much about how when she went over to Dalton, he gave her a quick once over, eyes scanning her top to bottom, and then back up.

 _Victor would be an idiot not to take the bait with you looking like that_ , he'd said, giving her a crooked smile.

It had made Jaz glad they'd been out of view and out of ear-shot of Hoffman. The last thing she needed were more boyfriend comments. Still, she'd grinned and said, _Was that a compliment, Top?_

 _Maybe_ , had been his only response, blue eyes sparkling a little brighter.

And she'd smiled, but then it had been back to business. And everything had been going so well until it all fell apart. She remembered how McG said Dalton would be right behind them when they got to the hospital, and then he didn't show up. She thought about how, barely an hour ago, she'd thought she might lose Dalton, too, because Hoffman had gotten away and Preach's gun had been missing.

Part of her was pissed with him. She knew it was because she'd been so worried, but it didn't change the fact that she'd been a little angry when he went off by himself. They were a team. And though he was fine, if he'd been seriously hurt, they wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it. She thought, for a moment of the photos that Arthur had shown her, namely the doctored one of Dalton. She still hadn't mentioned the photos to anyone. They hadn't been real, and she knew that, so it didn't seem to make sense to bring them up. But she thought of them now, and she imagined finding Dalton, bloody and beaten with Hoffman standing over him. It made her angry, and scared, and just about ready to pick a fight right there at Preach's bedside. Looking at Dalton, though, he was exhausted. And so was she. She didn't have it in her to start anything.

Instead, she looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. "Preach didn't have his sidearm on him when he came in," she said softly, breaking the silence.

Dalton shifted in his chair, not looking at her. He ran a hand down the side of his face, exhaling slowly. "I know."

That didn't surprise her. If he'd gone and done what she suspected, Hoffman would've tried to pull a gun on him, would've tried to kill him. She tried not to let the thought scare her too much, tried not to think any more about Dalton getting hurt, because he was there, next to her, unharmed. "What happened?"

"I did what needed to be done," he said quietly.

He still wouldn't look at her, and it was starting to frustrate her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him that she was seconds from breaking apart. She wanted him to say something to make her feel better, to tell her that it was going to be all right. She didn't care if he had the answers or not, she just wanted to hear him say it would be okay.

"Adam," she said softly. She never used his first name, because it always felt like she was crossing a line, the line that they'd carefully—maybe a little subconsciously—drawn between themselves.

But it did the trick. Surprised, Dalton looked at her. She could tell how closed off he was, how he'd stacked his walls up high, expression so different from the teasing glances he'd given her earlier when she'd been wearing that amazing black top. He didn't want to draw her into whatever he'd done, whatever dark part of himself he'd had to tap into to get it done, she understood that. But she was here, and she wasn't going to leave him. He hadn't left her when she'd been taken.

He ducked his head away from her again. Realizing that maybe he really didn't want to incriminate her in any way by telling her what he'd done, she lowered her voice, "Did you kill him?"

He was silent, and for a moment, Jaz wasn't sure if he would answer. If that was the case, she wouldn't push him. Like Xander had told her, just having him here was enough. She was grateful that he had walked out of the fight in one piece.

"Yeah," Adam whispered finally.

"Good." He looked at her again, eyes shining. She meant it. After everything Hoffman had done, he deserved what he got coming to him. She felt her own eyes sting, the past 48 hours crashing down on her. She shrugged one shoulder, trying for a smile. "Job done, right?"

It was what he'd said to her in the back of the truck as they'd escaped Iran. It was what she'd said to him afterwards, on base, when he'd been blaming himself for her getting captured. And just like those times, it seemed to do the trick. He swallowed, and then nodded. "Yeah."

Jaz let loose a breath. She was still worried as hell about Preach, but she was glad that Dalton was safe. Even if she was still a little pissed at him for going off by himself without back-up and without telling them.

"Just…" she started saying, pausing to consider if she wanted to tell him as much. "Don't do that again. Don't take off like that."

One side of his mouth quirked up in half a smile. "Why, were you worried about me?"

"I'm serious."

Her voice trembled a little and the tears she'd been fighting back for hours filled her eyes, blurring her vision a little. The smile fell from his face instantly, and he turned his body towards her.

"Hoffman could've killed you and I—I can't lose anyone else," she whispered, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. She lifted a hand to defiantly wipe them away, pressing her lips together.

And then Dalton was lifting a hand too, cupping her cheek and wiping more tears away with his thumb. His hand fell from her face quickly, but it was enough that she could feel his touch lingering against her skin. She tried not to think too hard about what that meant as Dalton held her hand, holding tight. She squeezed back, grateful for the supporting touch.

She knew what Xander had said, about just being grateful that she had her guys in her life, and she was. She was more grateful than they could ever know for every second, every moment she got with them. But she still didn't want to lose them. She couldn't imagine her life without them. It was bad enough that they'd lost Elijah, she couldn't stand it if she lost Dalton too.

"You won't lose me," Dalton said finally, his fingers warm and a little rough against her own. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah?"

He smiled. "Hell yeah."

And there, in that hospital room, that was all she needed to hear.


End file.
